


There's Nothing Wrong With You

by Leaving_tomorrow



Series: Science Says We're All On A Spectrum [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Dysphoria, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, How Do I Tag, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Trans Male Character, no beta we die like men, supportive boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaving_tomorrow/pseuds/Leaving_tomorrow
Summary: After spending the evening at a party he didn't want to go to and being touched by a man he didn't want to be touched by, Zexion had enough. He knew the pleasantries wouldn't stop, he knew that Vexen wouldn't quit trying to marry him off as his 'daughter'. His perfect little prodigy.Even so, he can enjoy the calm moments away from it. Forget about it for a weekend by going to his boyfriend's house, where he knows he'll be treated more than just a prize to be won.





	There's Nothing Wrong With You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I like projecting onto Zexion for some reason. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Song titled based on the song 'The Village' by Wrabel.

His door locks with a resounding click before he scrambles to yank the stupid white cocktail dress off his body over his head. He lets it fall on the ground without a care in the world, even kicking it closer to the hamper for good measure. It was arguably pretty, but not for him. It also costs way too much for how horrible it made him feel. 

Stumbling slightly trying to pull off his black tights with the same urgency, he doesn’t hesitate to kick it to the side before adding the bra into the mix (unclasping it mere seconds later). 

Double checking his room is locked, he goes into the bathroom and turns on the light. Locking that door too, he sighs deeply; tugging the Bobby pins out of his bangs (to hold them out of his face like they usually do). 

Running his fingers through them, he feels his skin burning from the memory of that guy touching him. Moving his stray bangs behind his ear, his hand slowly going up and down his arm and then resting on his thigh and lingering there.

He shutters, turning the shower on and cranking it to one of the hotter settings. It’s usually never this bad, that he needs to feel like his skin would boil off, but he thinks this was the first time in 5 hours that he hasn’t dissociated. He’s gotta make it count.

Staring at himself in the mirror, only to be greeted by his red face (due to rubbing the makeup off in the car), he tries to take a deep breath. It’s not working as well as he’d like, his chest feeling way too tight. His eyelashes still too full and dark without mascara, his facial features too soft (especially his cheeks and jawline), neck too thin, shoulders too narrow, he was too short, too scrawny for a normal guy. He had a small waist, his hips and thighs added curves that made buying non-form fitting jeans a living nightmare. 

He wishes that he didn’t have to pretend. Having to, even for only this one night, was too much. Vexen amplified everything he hated about his appearance, to fit a standard expected for his prodigy.

He was glad that his hair was at least his, not having to wear a wig or something. Even knowing there were guys with long hair, he decided to cut all of his off anyways. He couldn’t handle keeping it long. Knowing since he was little that he wasn’t in the right body. But did the guy who touched him care? No, why would he? He was the perfect ‘arm candy’. He thought his short hair was a ‘punk or emo’ look he was going for. ‘A bad girl who was forced to be a princess for a day.’ He had no idea. He’ll never know what he was going through. He was never talking to him again.

Zexion couldn’t believe Vexen did this to him. Of course, he couldn’t be blamed for being born wrong; especially since he was an orphan. But going to this party in a dress, makeup and being called by his dead name was too much. To be set up with a suitor like that without his permission, just to fulfill his own personal agenda, telling him to ‘give him a chance.’ 

It made it seem like he’d be okay selling him off to some weird organization-- hell, probably even a cult-- if it meant he’d gain something out of it. He knows that he’s just his adopted son, though he doubts Vexen would treat a biological one any different. That still didn’t make it right that he wanted to marry him off like he was property. 

He hops into the shower and stands under the burning water. It stings, so he can’t help but flinch and turn it down just a notch. It’s not scalding enough to give him a burn, even if that was his original intent, but he lets the heat envelop him. He doesn’t think about how badly the hot water will damage his skin or how it’s going to make him pink if he stays under it for too long. He stands there until he’s used to the heat before scrubbing his body clean with his loofah covered in his favorite body wash.

Even when he steps out and towel-dries his hair, he still looks like a drowned rat. Brushing his hair half-heartedly, after staring at the mirror and briefly contemplating blow drying it, he dries his body off and throws the towel in the hamper. His cheeks and body _were_ pink; his shoulders, knees and feet being the worst, like some sort of underage shy anime girl. Because body blushing was so realistic. Whatever though, the shower did make him feel better. 

Going back to his room, he sees a text from Demyx saying he was almost at his house. He really needed to stop texting and driving for these update messages, it was still illegal even if he was at a red light or stop sign. He sets his phone down and opens his closet to find his duffle bag filled with overnight stuff. 

It was already packed. He’s not ashamed to admit it; the fact that he’s basically always ready and prepared to leave this house. Whether it’s to go to his boyfriend’s house on a day like this, or if Vexen ever kicks him out for good. He’s genuinely surprised it hasn’t come to that yet, considering the amount of arguing they have on a regular basis. 

After double checking everything he needed was in it, he gets dressed. His favorite dark grey binder, boxers, Demyx’s corgi sweatshirt (which he may or may not have ‘accidentally borrowed’ a few months ago), grey sweats, white socks and his casual black Nike. He didn’t need to impress Demyx, and frankly, he’s done too much of that today to last him the rest of his lifetime. Well, maybe with the exception of his wedding day. Not that that will come any time soon. 

With the notification that Demyx was outside, Zexion opens the window and throws the duffle bag down into the bush below. It’s unfortunate that his bedroom was on the second floor, but that was what the ladder propped up on the side was for. Maneuvering it to be directly under his window, he steps out over the ledge and lowers himself down. He had jumped out of the window at one point, thinking that was necessary as there was no tree to help him climb down, but it hurt despite his precautions and research on jumping out of a window. It was also a hassle, especially when he wanted to sneak back in undetected.

With his feet on the ground, he moves the ladder back in place and picks up his bag. It was filled with his clothes and toiletries, mostly, so he didn’t know why it was an instinct to throw it in the bush to save its fall. He must’ve had something important at one point to make it a habit...oh! He bought Demyx a cute decorative glass seahorse figurine for the shelf he put up in his bedroom. It was wrapped in bubble wrap **and** his jacket for safety, but he wanted to ensure it wouldn’t break. That was it. 

He walks to the worn, blue 2005 Honda Civic parked a few houses down. Even though they’ve done this a few times before, he’s always surprised by it. He can barely acknowledge his boyfriend after sitting down in the passenger seat, flinging the bag in the back seat, before a bouquet of purple orchids and a plastic container of Madeleine cookies are shoved into his hands. Looking down in brief confusion, he looks back up to see Demyx giving him a sympathetic smile. A kiss is planted on him next, while simultaneously his seat belt is put on for him. 

“There we go! All set. Got some coffee for you too, just the way you like it. Can’t have those little cookies without it, right?” What did he do to deserve a sweet and dorky guy like him? If only he could put as much effort into working like he does for caring about him. Demyx gave him a wink before turning away, tapping play on his Spotify before looking at his mirror, signaling and driving back out onto the street. 

The song starts off slow, the guitar notes carefully being plucked and the soft voice of Adam Lambert fill the car. It takes him a few lines to recognize it as ‘Outlaws of Love’, but he can only smile at Demyx’s choice. Moving the flowers and cookies to lie on him, giving him a free hand, he takes Demyx’s phone off the dash mount to look at the queue. His heart stutters in his chest seeing the playlist. It’s completely different than the last one he looked through; he scrolls through to realize it’s a brand new one. In fact, he’s made a new playlist for every little event that’s happened with songs that have the same mood. Zexion didn’t know he did that, or how he does it; he just figured it was all the same. Internally telling himself that was too minor of a detail to be gushing and thrilled over, he feels happy, nonetheless. 

Adjusting the air vent slightly so the warm air hits his face more directly, he sighs at the perfect temperature in comparison to the chill in the air outside. Demyx reaches over and takes his hand, driving confidently with his left. There wasn’t much traffic, which was fairly normal at 11PM. The world wasn’t as alive as it was during the day, there seemed to be less things to worry about. It was the perfect time for deep conversations or for sitting in silence, allowing themselves to be swallowed in the white noise of crickets chirping or trees rustling in the faint breeze. 

Honestly, he was tired. While he could talk for hours about what transpired tonight, before Demyx picked him up like a knight in shining armor for the weekend (maybe a week, depending on how he was feeling on Sunday), he didn’t feel the need to. 

He knew that Demyx sympathized with him. He’d massage his face, hands, arms and legs with sweet smelling lotion seeing how pink his skin was. He’d snuggle him, his body enveloping him in warmth as the big spoon. His hands would simply hold him, at first, hold him close against his chest before eventually reaching up and petting his hair. Playing with it gently, humming a few songs into his ear after kissing his temple until he falls asleep. Their legs might tangle, whether they both curl into a ball or not, they know to have the fan blasting and to take off their socks unless they want to lose them come morning. They’d wake up late in the morning, but not late enough to ruin the day, and Demyx will make them some breakfast. Eggs and toast, waffles and pancakes or maybe cereal and sliced fruit. They’d spend their time lounging, watching Netflix on Demyx’s beanbag or playing some D&D at his desk. They might go on a drive and get some soft serve ice cream, walk around a bookstore or maybe go to the beach or the observatory. Whatever they did, he was looking forward to it.

The warmth of the heater made him sleepy. Demyx’s fingers caressing the back of his hand and rubbing his knuckles made his sleepy. He rests his head against the headrest, forgetting the delicious coffee in the cup holder waiting for him and the items resting across his lap and arm. The feeling of security made him sleepy. Besides the irresponsible texting while stopped, Demyx was a good driver. He brakes early and slowly and is always aware of his surroundings. Using his signals, checking his mirrors, moving his eyes purposefully every few seconds and driving defensively. It took a few years for him to become like this, a lot of practice, yet it worked. Zexion felt safe, his life in Demyx’s hands. Even outside of driving, Demyx knows so much about him and had so much of his heart. He trusted him not to break it, to not absolutely devastate him from forming any other romantic relationship in the future.

In moments like this though, he had no doubt in his mind about his love for him. Sometimes he felt insignificant, not worthy of someone like him. The feelings are usually easy to quell, recognizing them as irrational worries, but some days were better than others. That was life, unfortunately. 

This night was already looking up. Being lulled by the gentle rocking of the car and the tip of Demyx’s forefinger drawing circles against his hand, Zexion takes a deep breath and lets out all of his tension. With his eyes closed and Jake Edward’s song Second Puberty playing; Zexion falls asleep, knowing that he’s safe and loved.


End file.
